


Chemistry

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Ball & Boe, Classical Music RPF, Music RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Ficlet, First Time, Kissing, M/M, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 14:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14451237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: After their first 'One Night Only' show on ITV, all people can talk about is Michael and Alfie's chemistry. Still aglow from the audience's rousing reception and with the adrenaline still pumping through their veins, they cannot help but explore this chemistry themselves when they get backstage and things get a little frisky.





	Chemistry

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic. Written in 2016 and posted to Tumblr.

“What a night,” sighed Michael Ball, laughing as he yanked out his earpiece, storming down the corridor with such gusto.

“You say that every night,” smiled Alfie, the irony of that being, of course, that this had been the ‘One Night Only’ show on ITV. It had been a resounding success, mostly owing to their amazing chemistry, which the audience lapped up but, strangely enough, it had never really been discussed between the pair. Until tonight.

“It’s like a new lease of life for me, singing with you, Alf,” Michael beamed, “I’m hardly saying my career was going nowhere…”

Alfie snorted.

“… but the kind of reception we’re getting together is better than anything we’ve had apart,” he continued.

“ _Speak for yourself_ ,” the younger man thought with a smirk, wondering if Michael would ever shut the hell up and take in a little air.

“People are just constantly praising our chemistry. It’s all they talk about.”

Boe was mischievous. He liked to play the wind-up merchant. He said considerably less than Ball, but what he did say he liked to make count. He put his arm between Michael and the dressing room door, barring his entry as he stepped ever closer into his personal space. “I know,” he winked. “If we were a man and woman, we’d have copped off with each other by now.”

Michael’s expression widened.

“Singing all those soppy love songs to one another, gazing into one another’s eyes like that,” there was a chuckle.

“Well, your eyes are beautifully dark and alluring, Alf,” Michael could play this game just as competently as his fellow singer. “But the beard might be a bit scratchy!”

There came a shake of the head, together with a half-laughing cough. The Phantom star had broken his resolve and Alfie could not keep up his routine any longer. His arm dropped from the door frame and instead stretched out to direct his friend towards the dressing room. There was a mutual grin.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to find out,” the older man countered and, with his larger, stockier build, jostled Alf backwards through the door ajar. He made a point of closing it behind him though before finishing. “Maybe I like to be scratched, pulled… bitten,” he growled, his mouth hungrily on the opera singer’s, gentle teeth squeezing a bottom lip, an overactive tongue - usually far more associated with talking - this time was silent and fervant as it breached Alfie’s mouth. Michael pulled away momentarily, eager to gauge a reaction.

There was a rasp and a gasp, and a Northern accent quietly squeaked, “Did it scratch?” A comedian to the end.

“Fuck yes it did, and I want it to scratch me again,” there was a flash of wickedness in Michael’s eyes where normally there was cheekiness.

“It’s going to affect the chemistry,” Boe quipped.

Smoothing his hand along the front of the shorter man’s tuxedo, starting at the now open collar which surrounded that tempting and thoroughly kissable neck, and working slowly downwards. “For the better,” he whispered, eventually finding Alfie’s hardness.

Their chemistry was unstoppable now, from the perfect friendship to this smouldering sexual scene, and Alf would certainly not question their fast-developing chemistry again tonight, what with Michael’s nimble fingers grasping at his fly in desperation. He grunted, through gritted teeth, at the sound of an unzipping. If this was a laboratory and not a dressing room, these two chemical elements would froth in a test tube or explode. “Fuck,” he groaned as the hand forcefully dove in. The potential of said explosion just got nearer.

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this is a work of fiction involving real people written by myself - it is a completely made-up fantasy and is in no way intended to cause offence.


End file.
